
Some people wait several days before they get their mail. They let it accume-u-late. Every few days it suddenly dawns on them that perhaps there might be something in the mailbox. I cannot relate to these people.
To me, the daily mail is akin to Christmas Morning. There are few words every spoken through time that have the same magic as – wait – Christmas Morning. It’s like fairy dust has just been thrown about. That’s how I feel about the mail.
Now mind you, my mail probably looks a lot like your mail, most of the time. 5 out of 6 days I just add it to the kindling, ya know? But candy toned envelopes lettered with swishy scripts? Nary a one. Lottery checks, love letters, brown-paper-packages-tied-up with-string? Nope, nope, and nope.
So why the fairy dust hallucinations?
To be honest, I’m not exactly sure, but I'll try my best to explain.
First off, there’s just something hopeful about the whole thing. Who knows what might be lurking in that box. All we really know is that it’s smaller then a bread box, or technically, a mailbox. And even though it may not be filled with candy colored paper goods, it could. One day, it might. Now this line of thinking may seem terribly depressing to you, but to me it’s happy & hopeful.
And there is the other thing. Some days there are some wonderful surprises within. If you had friends like Anne and Nicole and Tawny, or parents like Jim & Kathie you would know just what I’m talking about. Some days it really is just like Christmas Morning.
Anne likes to send me little trinkets when she is out and spots something that reminds her of me. How does one get friends like this? I’m just grateful someone thinks of me at all let alone showers me with objects of love.
This week Nicole was getting rid of some stuff in her house and wrote me to ask if I might want a particular book. She send it packed beside the loveliest labels and hand towel. I’ve never met Nicole before.
Tawny. Well, I'm not sure where to even start. And I don’t want random passer-byers to solicit friendship with her just to get the goods but suffice to say that she does spoil me something awful. A couple of days ago she sent me a small bottle of perfume. It’s called Song in D Minor. Did you know that a scent could be named something so achingly beautiful? She chose it due to the picture of a little caged bird that you can see through the clear glass. She’s well aware of the emotional season that I have been in as of late. She knows I’m that bird. She’s reminding me to sing.
Oh, and it’s a combination of the notes white orchid, orange flower, gardenia & amber. If that doesn’t deserve a song… well, it’s just totally intoxicating, that's what it is.
So perhaps now you might be starting to see why I have a thing for the mail.